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Updated: June 6, 2025
'Why, yer mean Old Harmon's, do yer? said the hoarse gentleman, who was driving his donkey in a truck, with a carrot for a whip. 'Why didn't yer niver say so? Eddard and me is a goin' by HIM! Jump in. Mr Wegg complied, and the hoarse gentleman invited his attention to the third person in company, thus; 'Now, you look at Eddard's ears. What was it as you named, agin? Whisper.
Of late, the grindstone did undoubtedly appear to have been whirling at his own nose rather than Boffin's, but Boffin's nose was now to be sharpened fine. Thus far, Mr Wegg had let his dusty friend off lightly, having been baulked in that amiable design of frequently dining with him, by the machinations of the sleepless dustman.
'In a Dutch bottle? said Wegg gloomily, as he sat himself down. 'Very good, sir, very good! cried Venus. 'Will you partake, sir? 'Will I partake? returned Wegg very surlily. 'Why, of course I will! WILL a man partake, as has been tormented out of his five senses by an everlasting dustman with his head tied up! WILL he, too! As if he wouldn't! 'Don't let it put you out, Mr Wegg.
Wegg brought the matter to me, as usual, and I pointed out that my proposed contract with the Pierce-Lane Lumber Company would assure our making a handsome profit at Almaquo, while Thompson had no one in view to cut the other tract. Indeed, it was far away from any railroad. Wegg saw the force of my argument, and insisted that Thompson abandon his idea and accept my proposition.
The Wegg homestead stood near the edge of a thin forest of pines through which Little Bill Creek wound noisily on its way to the lake. At the left was a slope on which grew a neglected orchard of apple and pear trees, their trunks rough and gnarled by the struggle to outlive many severe winters.
'But, Mr Wegg, urged Venus, 'it was your own idea that he should not be exploded upon, till the Mounds were carted away. 'But it was likewise my idea, Mr Venus, retorted Wegg, 'that if he came sneaking and sniffing about the property, he should be threatened, given to understand that he has no right to it, and be made our slave. Wasn't that my idea, Mr Venus? 'It certainly was, Mr Wegg.
When Christie died I was in Ireland, and on my return to London I discovered that the whole collection had been sold to a butterman as waste-paper at a farthing per pound. There was one literary relic, however, of inestimable value; it consisted of an unpublished chapter in Our Mutual Friend, in which the golden dustman was killed by Silas Wegg.
He could put us right, I'm sure." "Joe!" "Yes. Why don't we suspect him of something? Or Ethel; or old Nora?" "Do be sensible, Patsy," said Beth, impatiently. But Louise walked on a way in silence. Presently she remarked: "I'm glad you mentioned Joe Wegg. The boy gives me an idea that may reconcile many conflicting suspicions." "In what way, Louise?"
He used to tell me wonderful stories of what he would accomplish if he could only get out into the world. "When he implored his father to let him go away, Captain Wegg used to assure Joe that he would some day be rich, and there was no need of his preparing himself for either a business or a profession; but that did not satisfy Joe's ambition, as you may imagine.
'Well, replies Venus, still blowing his tea, 'I'm not prepared, at a moment's notice, to tell you, Mr Wegg. 'Come! According to your own account I'm not worth much, Wegg reasons persuasively.
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